Simon Says
by Lizzie12
Summary: Angel watches American Idol.
1. Default Chapter

Angel flopped down on his couch, picked up the TV remote and began channel surfing. He hoped to find something good, like a hockey game or a Joan Crawford movie, but landed on American Idol, a show he hadn't watched since the 'Simon Cowell' incident.  
  
It had been months since the audition, but Angel's irritation hadn't faded. Okay, so he didn't have a trained voice, but that was no reason for Cowell to have said "He makes William Hung sound like Pavorati." Angel briefly considered letting Angelus out for a game of 'Simon Says', but decided to put the matter behind him. Randy's crack about Manilow turning over in his grave had been both untrue and uncalled for, Angel thought. As for Paula, the memory of her shrieking in pain as she ran from the studio still made him wince.  
  
Angel was about to change the channel when he vaguely remembered Lorne saying something about Wolfram & Hart's entertainment division representing the next winner. Not wanting to appear out of the loop, he kept watching.  
  
He scrutinized the finalists, wondering what was so great about a bunch of no-talent hacks who had obviously been chosen for their looks. Or maybe they'd enchanted their way onto the show, he thought.  
  
During the commercial break another idea struck him. They were jealous! Jealous of his unique vocal talents! No wonder they had been so harsh. Their frail egos couldn't handle being in the presence of a true original. Pure spite, that's why they'd rejected him while giving lesser talents fame and fortune.  
  
The show resumed. One guy looked kind of familiar. Angel leaned forward, peering at the screen in confusion. No, it wasn't him, fate couldn't be this cruel. It must be a lookalike he told himself, a lookalike who also sounded just like . . . Angel gasped as the horrific truth dawned.  
  
"And the next American Idol is: Lindsey McDonald!" Simon announced proudly.  
  
Lindsey smiled and took a bow as the crowd went wild.  
  
Angel's scream of "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" could be heard for miles.  
  
The End. 


	2. Angelus chimes in

Angel felt as if a herd of elephants had danced on his head. Groaning, he managed to open his eyes for a brief moment, then promptly closed them; someone had apparently installed a 1,000 watt searchlight in his bedroom.

He heard Wesley's say: "I think he's awake now."

"Looks like he's still in slumberland to me," Lorne's said.

An all too familiar voice said, "Dump some cold water on him, that'll bring him around."

"Shut up Spike," Gunn, Lorne and Wes chorused.

Angel opened his eyes again. He sat up slowly, ignoring Wes's plea to stay put.

"Angelcakes, what happened?" Lorne said. "We heard you scream and found you lying on the floor next to the remains of your TV."

"I had this terrible dream," Angel said, still reeling from the horror. "I was watching American Idol and LINDSEY MCDONALD won!"

The others stared at him.

"It was all a dream, wasn't it?" Angel said shakily. There was an awkward silence. Wes shuffled his feet, "Well, uh, Angel, not as such," he finally admitted.

"Whaddya mean 'not as such'?" Angel demanded.

"Angelbuns, I hate to break this to you, but Lindsey is the new American Idol winner. In fact, I'm meeting him later today. We're representing him. Isn't it fantastico?" Lorne said cheerily."No, it's not fantastico!" Angel yelled.

Spike grinned. "Too bad mate. The people have spoken."

"It was fixed, I'm telling you!" Angel insisted. "There's no way he could have won on his own."

"Give it up Angel," Gunn said. "It's over." A thought struck him. "Hey, do you think they'd go for Gilbert and Sullivan next time?"

Seizing the opportunity to twit his grandsire, Spike said, "By the way, did you know your audition is on the extended DVD version in the 'Godawful' section?"

"Go away, leave me alone," Angel said, succumbing to despair.

The others left. Angel could hear Gunn and Lorne discussing which Gilbert and Sullivan song to use for the next season of American Idol.

Several hours later:Angel lay in bed, trying desperately to ignore the voice in his head. Usually he could block out Angelus's endless stream of commentary, but the day's events had taken a lot out of Angel. Gradually Angelus's thoughts filled Angel's conscious mind.

"Gosh, Angel, aren't you proud of him?" Angelus sneered. "Just think, our little Lindsey won the big prize. I'm all verklempt."

'I'm not listening,' Angel thought.

Angelus was nothing if not persistent. "If you'd turned him when I told you to, this never would have happened," Angelus said.  
  
Angel winced as Angelus continued. "Oh no, Angelus, I can't do that, it wouldn't be right," Angelus said in a falsetto.  
  
'I don't sound like that,' Angel protested.  
  
"Face it, pal, Lindsey would have made a terrific vampire. He was already pretty far down the evil brick road to start with. Oh, what fun we could have had," Angelus mourned. "But no, Mr. Goody Shanshus wouldn't even consider the idea."

'Change the subject, please,' Angel begged.

"Okay. What song did you sing for Randy, Paula and Simon? Mandy, wasn't it? I know, let's think of some new lyrics," Angelus said.'Let's not,' Angel thought, trying to suppress the maddening voice in his skull.  
"Oh Lindsey, you came to LA . . . Angel cut off your hand, Oh Lindsey."

'Shut up!' Angel thought. "No," Angelus responded. "Like that one? Here's another: He sings the songs that make the whole world sing . . . "

To his relief, Angel heard a knock on his bedroom door. Desperate for a diversion, Angel yelled, "Come in."

Wesley entered the room, followed by Gunn, Lorne and Spike. "

We came to see how you're doing," Wesley said.

"I'm fine," Angel said.

Wes seemed dubious. "You look a bit strained," he said.

Spike added, "bloody hell, peaches, I haven't seen you looking this wrecked since St. Petersburg."

"I'm fine," Angel snapped.

This is getting good, Angelus thought happily. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Now to inflict more pain. Oh yeah, the jingles, they're even more horrible than the songs. Concentrating with all his might, he filled Angel's brain with: "He's a winner, he's a winner, he's a winner. Wouldn't you like to be a winner too? Lindsey McDonald won American Idol."

Angel barely suppressed a whimper.

"Angel, are you sure you're all right?" Wesley asked, frowning.

Angel gritted his teeth. He would NOT let Angelus get to him. He gave Wes a sickly smile and said, "No, Wes. Nothing's bothering me. Why do you ask?"

Meanwhile, inside his head Angelus belted out "Looks like he made it! . . . ".

Angel began to twitch uncontrollably.

'Why, Angelus, why?' he pleaded silently, oblivious to the effect his internal monologue was having on his companions.

"Do you even have to ask?" Angelus said. "You want reasons, I'll give you reasons. The albums, the jukeboxes, most of all: THE CONCERTS! I'll never forgive you. You made me suffer, now it's your turn, buddy."

'Oh,' Angel thought. 'I guess it's too late to apologize.'

"You're right about that. Now it's time now to really turn the screws," Angelus cackled.

"Once more, with feeling: His name was Lindsey, he was a lawyer. He's got groupies out to there; he's gonna be a millionaire. . . . then Angel cut off his hand!

His name was Angel, he's still a vampire. . . Simon said he sang worse than even William Hung! On Idol, American Idol."

Angel cracked. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed his head and yelled: "Stop it, stop it, stop it! I can't take anymore." Angel tore his hair, his eyes were wild. "I can't stand it, no more, please, no more Lindsey."

His friends exchanged worried glances.

Lorne was the first to speak. "Angelcakes, not to get all "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" with you, but what's going on?"

"He's in my head and he won't shut up!" Angel cried. "And he's destroying all my favorite Manilow songs. He's EVIL!"

"Who's in your head?" Wesley asked.

Angel moaned. "Lindsey, it's non-stop Lindsey."

"Lindsey's in your head?" Spike said, making the international sign of 'he's nuts' behind Angel's back. Gunn nodded in agreement. After a moment's reflection, Wesley also nodded.  
  
Grabbing the phone, Wesley said soothingly, "Don't worry Angel, we know what stress you've been under lately. I think you need a nice, long rest."  
  
Much later:  
  
The personnel of the Fairfield Clinic Psychiatric Unit had had their share of 'unusual' patients, but never had they dealt with a case such as this. Several staff members gathered to discuss Angel's condition.  
  
"He just lies there, moaning the name Lindsey McDonald," Nurse Willetts said.  
  
"You mean that American Idol guy?" Dr. McNamara said.  
  
"Yeah, that's the one. I didn't realize he was such a fan," Nurse Willetts said.  
  
Nurse Rachett had a brilliant idea. "I know, I'll bring in the newest Lindsey McDonald CD for him. That should really brighten his day."  
  
The end.


	3. Salt In The Wounds

Angel sighed in relief. It had taken weeks of medication and a brief, unpleasant, stint in a padded cell, but finally, Angelus's ceaseless chatter had ended. No more songs about Lindsey to the tune of Manilow jingles, no more taunts about losing out to an evil-handed lawyer, and above all, no more yodeling. Why, oh why, did I ever let Darla talk me into visiting Switzerland, he thought, wincing at the memory.

His reverie was broken by one of the hospital staff. "You have a visitor, Mr. Angel," she said brightly.

Angel was startled. He hadn't had a visitor since his third day in the hospital. One isolated incident and all your friends abandon you, he thought bitterly. Okay, maybe trying to eat Wesley had been a little extreme, but that was no excuse for his nearest and dearest to avoid him. I'd like to see them try to stay calm and rational with Angelus chanting "Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman" inside their heads, he thought.

"Who is it?" he asked the nurse.

"A Mr. William T. Bluday," she chirped in reply.

Oh goody, Spike. Just who I wanted to see, Angel thought morosely. "Send him in," he said resignedly.

"You can come in now, Mr. Bluday. I'll run along and let you two have some quality time together," she said cheerily.

Spike entered the room slowly. Steady now, mustn't spook him, Spike thought as he gingerly approached Angel. I'll have to break the news to him tactfully, as only I can. 

Angel stood up. "Yeah, what are you here for?" he said. 

"Hello, Grandsire. You're looking well," Spike lied, ignoring Angel's question.

Angel took a few steps toward Spike. Something's not right. He looks different, almost as if he's . . No, it can't be, Angel thought. Listening closely, he could hear the definite sound of a heartbeat. "Your heart, it's beating!" Angel said. "You're alive! When? How? Why?" he demanded.

"Ah yes, there's a bit of a story behind that," Spike said cheerfully.

Angel glared. "I'm listening."

"Well, Peaches, Lindsey had a brilliant idea to revive Cordelia with the blood of a Mohra demon. Whilst performing the procedure, Winifred inadvertently splattered some of the blood on me. Yadda, yadda, I'm a real boy. Wonderful, isn't it?" Spike said, dodging Angel fists.

Hearing the commotion, the nurse stuck her head into the room. "Are we all right?" she said. "I can get the orderlies in here in a few seconds," she said with a warning glance at Angel.

"No, no problem," Angel said. "We're just catching up on old times." The nurse left them alone.

Calm down, take a deep breath, Angel told himself. Spike turning human isn't the end of the world. Maybe this will work to my advantage. Remember: serenity now. Angel smiled weakly at Spike. 

Spike grinned. "It's great. I can go outside in the sun, drive with the top down, I even visited the beach yesterday. Cordelia said that I beat out Wesley for the title of 'Whitest White Man Who Ever Lived'," Spike said.

Angel reeled. It was all too much to take in. Spike had said something significant. What was it? Something about Cordelia. "Cordy, did you say Cordy is out of her coma?"

"That's right mate. Lindsey's brilliant idea saved the day," Spike said with a trace of malice.

Angel flushed red at the sound of his rival's name. "Since when does Lindsey have anything to do with Cordelia?"

"Since he took over as CEO," Spike said, cautiously backing away from Angel.

Serenity now! Angel thought. Serenity now! "Fill me in," he said, trying his best to stay calm and reasonable.

"Well, it all started when Charlie's brain upgrade expired. He was going to have it redone, but Lindsey was in the office that day, meeting with Lorne, overheard Charlie, and managed to talk him out of it. Said something about a catch, if I recall correctly," Spike said. "To make a long story short, Charlie's now the head of security, Lindsey took over as Head Honcho, and, after putting the full office staff on mystical coma research duty, came up with a magical cure, thus inadvertently making me a real boy again. Now Cordelia's up and about, and looking absolutely smashing, I must say. If I weren't engaged to the Slayer, I'd have a go at that bird," Spike said, nimbly avoiding Angel's right hook.

"Engaged . . ., " Angel spluttered. "What? How?"

"Forgot to tell you that, didn't I?" Spike said from a safe distance. He cast a quick glance through the doorway. Ah yes, the nurse had posted three beefy orderlies, Gormspel demons by the looks of them, at the ready. Reassured, he continued. "After getting my boyish good looks back, I hopped the company jet to Rome, swept the Slayer off her feet, and the rest is history. By the way, that 22 carat diamond I put on the expense report was acquired for research purposes.

Angel slumped into a chair. "But, but, Buffy was supposed to wait for me," he whimpered.

Spike sneered. "Don't tell me you thought she'd go back to the guy who dumped her at her high school prom," he said. "Not to mention your little escapades with Darla, Gwen and Cordelia. How long was she supposed to stay in limbo, waiting for you to shanshu? Life moves on Liam, at least for us living," he said smugly.

"Who told her about them?" Angel yelled. 

"Don't look at me, Angel," Spike said. "I had nothing to do with it." 

"What about the Immortal?" Angel said.

"Well, it seems that Andrew inadvertently mentioned Morty's little tryst with Darla and Dru back in the day, which, oddly enough, caused her to cool on Mr. Immortality. On a completely unrelated note, I gave Andrew the Lotus," Spike said. 

Angel glowered. Amazing how his forehead looks even larger when he's scowling. He must have some Neanderthal blood in him. I'll have to remember to ask Fred about that, Spike thought. 

Several minutes passed in silence as Angel tried to process everything he'd heard. At least I still have Cordelia, Angel thought after some reflection. "Where's Cordy?" he asked, a plaintive note in his voice.

Spike paused. He wasn't sure how much more bad news Angel could take. Gazing down at Angel's wan countenance, he felt a stab of pity. It didn't last long; images of Angel and Drusilla filled his mind. Enjoying the chance for revenge, he said, "Don't worry about her, pet, Cordy decided to resume her acting career. Lorne arranged for her to audition for a new Phlegemont and Mendoza sitcom. It looks as if she'll be quite the international superstar." 

"That's not what I meant," Angel snapped. "Why isn't she here?" 

Once again, Spike smiled maliciously at Angel. "It seems she's a wee bit unhappy about the way you left her to rot in a hospital bed whilst playing slap and tickle with werewolf girl. Women, who can understand them?"

"Who told her about Nina?" Angel growled.

Spike smirked. "Harmony, who else?" he said. Amused at Angel's dismay, he said, "Come on Peaches, they were best chums for years. Did you seriously think Harmony could resist passing on such a juicy piece of gossip?"

"How did she take it?" Angel said, hoping that Cordelia would be reasonable.

"Er, I believe she muttered something about 'I hope he likes it doggy style'," Spike said, watching with interest as Angel began to froth at the mouth. 

Angel made a heroic effort to control himself. Nina, Angel thought desperately, I still have Nina, don't I? Barely daring to ask, he said, "Have you heard from Nina lately?" 

Angel winced as Spike, barely restraining his laughter, said, "Yes, luv, Oz sent Cordy the nicest postcard from Cancun. It seems there may be a litter of puppies on the way."

"Gwen?" Angel whispered.

"She and Charlie eloped to Las Vegas last Tuesday," Spike said.

"Fred?" Angel said sadly, knowing in his heart what the answer would be.

"Winifred and Wesley plighted their troth, as it were, a month ago Sunday," Spike said.

"Kate Lockley?" Angel said, pulling a name from the distant past.

"Moved to New York years ago," Spike said happily. "I think she's working for the District Attorney's office now."

"Bethany?" Angel said.

"That's Mrs. David Nabbit to you," Spike said, greatly enjoying himself.

"Eve?" Angel forced himself to say the name.

"Lindsey's fancy piece?" Spike said, chortling with glee.

"Willow?" Angel said hopefully.

"Still gay," Spike said.

"Lilah?"

"Still dead."

"Anne?" Angel said.

"My old groupie?" Spike said nostalgically. "Involved with one of the Found Boys."

"Dawn?" Angel said, grasping at straws.

"The Nibblet! Don't be ridiculous! She's far too young for you, and she's dating a likely lad right here in LA, some bloke named Connor Reilly," Spike said, gleefully crushing Angel's last hope. Spike looked at his watch. "It's been fun, peaches, but it's time for me to leave. Can't keep a lady waiting."

"Harmony?" Angel said, his voice quavering.

"Bloody Hell! You must be desperate," Spike snapped. "Unfortunately for you, the girl is currently in pursuit of one Mr. Alexander Harris."

"She's in love with Xander?" Angel gasped.

"It's the eyepatch. She said, and I quote 'he looks super sexy, kinda like Johnny Depp in Pirates of The Caribbean'. Don't worry, he's a resourceful lad, he may yet elude her," Spike said.

Angel finally cracked. "William, don't go. Don't leave me alone," he whined pathetically.

Spike felt another stab of pity. He couldn't in all conscience, leave his grandsire all alone in this ghastly place, he thought. Then, inspiration struck. "Don't worry, Pet, I've got a marvelous idea, if I do say so myself. Toodles," Spike said as he quickly exited the room.

Several days later:

"Wakey, wakey," the nurse said.

"Wha?" Angel said groggily. 

"Good news, Mr. Angel. Mr. Bluday thought you looked lonely, so he arranged for you to have a roommate. She's a sweet girl, a little 'off', but our staff feels confident they'll have her back to normal in no time," the nurse said, her customary chipperness even more pronounced than usual. "Mr. Bluday said after 120 years he finally realized he couldn't fix her, so they might as well have a whack at it. What a jokester!"

Angel fought off the residual effects of the medication. Peering around the room, he spotted an all too familiar face. No, this couldn't be happening, he thought, blanching in horror. Not this. Even Spike couldn't be this cruel. On second thought, Spike could.

The woman came closer to him, smiled sweetly and said, "Hello, Daddy."

The End. 


End file.
